Facebook Updates, Weddings and Reunions
by shyath
Summary: Femslash. Quinn/Rachel. Written for prompt: "In high school, Quinn Fabray hated Rachel Berry, so it comes as a big shock to everyone when at the high school reunion Rachel shows up with her gorgeous partner/wife in tow - Quinn."


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee. Seriously.

**A/N:** Written for this prompt at rq_meme: "In high school, Quinn Fabray hated Rachel Berry, so it comes as a big shock to everyone when at the high school reunion Rachel shows up with her gorgeous partner/wife in tow - Quinn ..."

**A/N2:** Thanks to air_one_23 and E for giving this a read-through!

**A/N3: **Also, what is up with the title (full title: Facebook Updates, Weddings and Reunions - Friends Are The Family We Choose For Ourselves)? Seriously, does it make any sense? Does the story make any sense? I had to fiddle with a lot of technicalities to work in what the prompter asked for and I hope they haven't become glaring errors instead. In any case, I hope everyone enjoys reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please, please REVIEW – whether you like it or not, if you just want to say something. It doesn't take that much time and effort and it'll keep my muse alive (the shameless thing can't live without it!) and you'll get a virtual cookie (or other acceptable substitutes to your dietary preference)! So, enjoy, remember to review and cheers!

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It was one of two options. Either her memory was beginning to fail her, but she was just about to turn twenty-two, so that conjecture was decidedly suspect (though that vegan pasta she had consumed reluctantly at the rest stop had appeared most questionable and though she could have undoubtedly gone without sustenance while her significant other replenished her own dropping sugar level – despite Rachel's most heartfelt appeals to wait till they reach Lima for better, by which she truly meant 'healthier' or 'less greasy' at the very least, options, but who was Rachel to deny her better half, especially when matters of intimacy had been at stake – the love of her life also happened to possess in her extensive collection of persuasive skills the most devastatingly effective pout in the history of mankind and was not at all above utilising it to get her way when the withholding of certain _items_ no longer held sway). Or something in the air was tempering with her perception (and she definitely could not put this possibility past Sue Sylvester; the objectionable chemicals that woman might have pumped her Cheerios with could have finally been released for the unwitting masses congregating today for the five-year reunion to inhale and rot from and eventually die of; Rachel could not help but gasp a little at the high plausibility of the scenario she had freshly concocted and proceeded to devise emergency exit strategies – after all, no one could accuse her of being less than prepared for any eventuality, no matter how improbable it might prove to be!). Either way, she had never, not even in her wildest dreams or most graphic nightmares (and she happened to pride herself quite a bit on her vivid imagination), imagined that the gym of William McKinley High School could be so – so –

"Thank Vera Wang you did not come bedecked in argyle," a familiar voice intruded upon her musings. "It would have clashed quite horribly with the décor. But I suppose it's only to be expected. I heard rumours that your show is a prime candidate to be nominated for a major award. Rachel Berry, overachiever to the very end, couldn't you have at least waited until your third or fourth show on Broadway to snag a big break?"

Rachel jolted gratefully away from the downward spiral and bewildering turns her thoughts had begun to embark upon (perhaps there was some truth in her therapist's cautious suggestions of her suffering from ADHD), wheeling around and beaming genuinely at the boy – no, the man standing before her. "Kurt!" she squealed, barely restraining herself from throwing her arms around him. "I cannot begin to describe how elated I am to see you after all these years. And thank you for your kind words, it is not a shoo-in, but we have our fingers crossed for the best." At Kurt's raised eyebrow, Rachel quickly added, "Oh, and you look immaculate as always. Of course."

"It's only expected for me to be so chic," Kurt told her with a smirk, flicking a piece of nonexistent lint off the shoulder of his tailored jacket. "But it _is_ flattering nonetheless for others to acknowledge it. In all seriousness, however, when has Rachel Berry _ever_ just had her fingers crossed? I bet you've already had your acceptance speech written and practiced over and over again. Knowing you, it won't be in vain either."

Rachel smiled in an unexpected display of modesty at Kurt's roundabout vote of confidence. "I grew up," she explained in a gentle tone. "But it means a lot coming from you, Kurt. You were always my biggest rival in Glee and I would like it very much if you take some time away from London to see the show. I'll secure the best seats in the house for you."

"I'll try, Rachel, but I make no promises. You know how it is for the up-and-coming, you can't afford to take too much time off," Kurt murmured amicably, smiling a little. He gave the brunette diva a slow onceover as he unmistakeably geared up to impart more sage advice of the fashion variety when his eyes snapped up to her left hand and settled there with frightening intensity. "Rachel Barbra Berry!" he shrieked without warning, easily attracting attention to their relatively secluded corner of the gym.

Rachel jumped where she stood. "Y-yes?"

"Did you _get married_ and fail to tell any of us? Oh, don't you mind the rest of the former Gleeks, but you didn't even think to mention it to _me_? I thought we were friends! And whom else could you have gone to regarding your wedding dress? Giorgio Armani, Coco Chanel and Christian Louboutin, you _did _get married in the proper wear, didn't you? Please, please, please tell me you did. I honestly do not think I could ever speak to you again if you were to tell me you didn't!"

Rachel blinked rapidly, somewhat taken aback at the impassioned tone of Kurt's 'speech' – _and people have the nerve to accuse _me_ of rambling! I do not ramble, thank you very much. I may be a tad – just a touch, oh all right! inordinately verbose when it comes time to express myself, but what is so wrong with that? It should honestly be an admirable quality, one that others should strive to emulate. After all, sometimes, on occasion, one has to –_

"Who got _what_ now?"

"Mercedes -"

"Berry got hitched? I _have_ to see the poor soul she's managed to trick into a life full of distress!"

"Santana, I resent -"

"Ooh, I love weddings!"

"Brittany, I should -"

"Why didn't _I_ know about this?"

"Puckzilla wasn't invited? Rachel, I _told _you that it has always been my dream to do some bridesmaids!"

"Finn, Puck, let me explain -"

"Was this on Facebook?"

"When did this happen?"

"Artie, Tina, please -"

"I could have written your wedding vows in Na'avi, Rachel."

"And I could totally have performed at the wedding!"

"Sam, Mike, you're misunderstanding -"

"What's going on here?"

Rachel could have burst into tears at Quinn's arrival, but she was made of sterner stuff (or so she kept telling herself) and besides, she could consider this unforgiving flood of questions as practice for future (impending, inevitable) interactions with the more persistent members of the press. "Oh, Quinn!" she exhaled instead.

"What's going on here?" Quinn repeated as she regarded the guilty but slightly predatory expressions every single one of the ten former Glee members sported as they clustered around Rachel in a loose half-circle. Quinn crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot for good measure, the flat of her heel clicking sharply against the synthetic floorboards of the gym.

Santana was the first to address Quinn. The rest of the group was more hesitant to face the scowl now gracing Quinn's face. "Q, weren't you in NYC with the midget here? You didn't stop to think that maybe, just maybe her marriage to some miserable twit could be news worth mentioning?"

"Hey!" Rachel yelled suddenly, stomping her foot and bringing everyone's heads swinging back to her.

"What now, Streisand?" Santana grumbled in annoyance.

"I most politely request that you retract your prior statement." Rachel's voice was even, but the fury was evident in her shaking hands and the tense set of her shoulders as she attempted and most adorably failed to glare down Santana.

Santana scoffed. "I most politely _decline_."

Rachel actually growled. "The beautiful person I have given my hand in marriage to is _not_ a miserable twit, is _not_ a loser and I take offence that you had even considered to describe her as such."

"Wait – _her_? Your twit is a _twat_? You got married to a girl?"

"Congrats, Rachel and mystery girl!"

"_Nice_, Berry."

"Mailman, mailman -"

"You go, girl!"

"Our very own little girl, flying the rainbow flag so proudly."

"Again, I have to ask – was this on Facebook? And if not, _why _was it _not_ on Facebook?"

"Artie, we need to talk about your addiction to technology after this. And I think it's really sweet, Rachel."

"I could have _still_ written the vows in Na'avi."

"Are gays allowed to marry in the state of New York? Is it a civil partnership instead? Uh – in any case, I would have totally danced at your wedding – or whatever you called it, Rachel!"

"So," Puck practically purred when everyone had exhausted themselves into a temporary silence. "Who's this chick you got married to? Is it someone we now? Or better yet, is it someone we _don't_ know?"

Rachel felt heat crawl across her cheeks and she had to drop her eyes to her feet for a moment to compose herself before looking up to resolutely lock gazes with an equally flushed Quinn. "It's Quinn," she said softly, smiling crookedly at the blonde.

Jaws collectively dropped. Finn collapsed in a dead faint after a frenzied chant of 'mailmanmailmanmailman' to control his ragged breathing, narrowly missing the bowl of punch on the table nearby as he did so (and it was a good thing that they had been studiously ignored since a while ago by everyone else attending the reunion, it would have been an awkward situation attempting to explain the unforeseen drama). Puck adopted a dreamy leer. Mercedes and Kurt leaned against each other for support as they switched between silent gasping and incoherent spluttering. Tina dropped heavily into a completely immobile Artie's lap. Mike and Sam were frozen in disturbingly remarkable impressions of statues. Santana could only manage to point shakily from Rachel to Quinn and then back again. Brittany was the only one who succeeded to be comparatively unaffected, skipping jubilantly toward Rachel and then crossing the short distance to Quinn to offer both of them congratulatory hugs accompanied by lots and lots of squealing.

"No way," Santana mumbled at last. "This is just an elaborate joke, right? Hah, good one, Q. And _you_, Berry, I didn't know you had it in you. I'm impressed."

"What – they're not married?" Puck questioned drowsily.

"They're not?" Brittany looked instantly dejected. Sam and Mike next to her looked similarly disappointed.

"Huh?" Finn grunted from his spot on the floor, a bit of drool escaping the side of his still gaping mouth as he struggled to sit up.

"B-b-b-but the ring!" Kurt exclaimed.

"Yeah, how do you explain that gigantic stone on Rachel's finger, huh?" Mercedes directed to Santana, smiling supportively at Rachel.

Santana rolled her eyes. "First of all, we all just graduated, so Q couldn't have afforded -"

"But it looks so _real_," Tina cut in, bringing Rachel's hand as close as she could to her eyes.

"I agree," Artie offered.

"Wheels, you're her boyfriend, you're obliged to agree with everything Stutters says."

"I don't stutter anymore!"

"Don't call my girlfriend that!"

"And it _was_ expensive," Quinn piped up in a mildly rueful tone, approaching Rachel and retrieving her left hand from Tina. Turning the hand in her own, Quinn pressed her lips against the palm and murmured against the skin as she looked up at a wildly blushing Rachel, "But Rach's worth it and more."

"Okay, that's so gag-worthy and more," Santana retorted sharply.

"I wish you say things like that sometimes," Brittany muttered.

Santana coloured, but soldiered on and glowered at Quinn and Rachel, "Who the fuck is this fake blonde you have plastered all over yourself, huh, Berry? What did you do with Tubbers? I don't like Q all that much, but she's the only blonde apart from B that I can tolerate and I don't take kindly to impersonators."

"It's because the pod people used to pretend to be me in middle school," Brittany solemnly informed a perplexed Mercedes just as Sam squeaked out an indignant "Hey!"

"I don't think you count, Sam," Kurt soothed. "You're not really blonde."

Sam huffed at that.

"S, you're being ridiculous. I _am_ Quinn."

"Hell no! The Q I know would rather her throat slit than be married to Treasure Trail! And Q certainly wouldn't be so nausea-inducing."

"She has a point, Quinn. Or fake-Quinn. You used to hate PDA when we were still together," Finn, who had regained complete consciousness and was back on his two feet, contributed.

Sam and Puck nodded in wholehearted agreement.

"Disregarding everyone's continued apathy to Santana's inappropriate recycling of high school insults, could it have crossed any of your minds that the reason why I might not have approved of PDA – heck, why I went to all that trouble to instil those rules for the duration of our sad excuses of relationships -" Quinn ignored the looks of outrage on all of the three boys' faces."- was because I was gay? Specifically, because I was gay for Rachel Berry?"

Rachel gazed adoringly at the conclusion of the blonde's fervent response, but needless to say, no one else shared Rachel's delight.

Santana's complexion was taking a turn for the worse when she spoke next, "T-this isn't a dream? I d-did hear you channelling Berry? I-is this real life?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana's dramatics, wrapping a possessive arm around Rachel's waist and pulling her snugly into the blonde's side to prove her point. "That's right. Though, I have to say – being in love with Rachel does feel like living a very good dream."

With the exception of a sicklier-looking Santana, everyone (including Puck, though he would _break_ anyone who dared mention it to an outside party without his express permission – no, even _then_) sighed dreamily at Quinn's sincere proclamation.

"Isn't that just _sweet_?" Santana groused, regaining some of her vigour.

"Isn't she?" Rachel breathed out obliviously.

"Ooh, you must tell us – when did you guys get married?" Kurt enquired excitedly.

Mercedes jumped in with a question of her own. "How did Q propose? Or was it Rachel who did the proposing?"

"That ring is just _beautiful_, Rachel," Tina whispered in admiration.

"Why was this _not_ on Facebook?" Artie whined once again.

"Tell me you did _not_ have dancers at your wedding," Mike begged.

"Or experts on Na'avi. Or guitars," Sam followed.

"Or drums," Finn called out.

"Or hot bridesmaids," Puck volunteered, waggling his eyebrows.

"Or ducks! Ooh, did you have ducks at the wedding?" Brittany queried, clapping her hands.

Rachel was growing pale at the renewed onslaught, her hold on Quinn's arm painful and almost assuredly going to leave a mark as she pleaded silently for help.

"Let her breathe, people!" Quinn snapped, gratified to see everyone looking apologetic as they took an immediate step backward. "And start acting like adults, why don't you?"

Rachel smiled beatifically at Quinn and leaned up to brush her lips against the sensitive spot on Quinn's neck.

Quinn grinned as she half-heartedly fought not to squirm under Rachel's brief ministrations.

Everyone else sighed again. Santana mimed vomiting and Puck whooped as if his biggest wish had come true (knowing him, it probably had).

"So – _please_ tell us," Kurt prompted, batting his eyelashes.

Quinn turned to Rachel with an eyebrow lifted. Rachel shook her head and smiled somewhat shyly. Quinn rolled her eyes. The others looked on, more than a little confused as the silent conversation carried on between the two. Quinn sighed in the end and turned to their captivated audience, clearing her throat before beginning in a noticeably hesitant tone, "It's pretty common knowledge that Rach and I weren't exactly cordial to each other in high school." Quinn smiled wryly when Mercedes snorted in concurrence. "But I think that was more my fault." Rachel wrapped both arms around Quinn's waist in support. "Anyway, it was only predictable that we fell out of contact when we graduated. There was no more Glee or any other common ground to keep us together after all. Even knowing that we were the only ones to end up in New York didn't change a thing. It was only after running into each other at a mutual friend's party a few months into first year that I realised – well, that Rachel wasn't so bad after all and we began to spend time together regularly. One thing led to another and we started dating. And before we really knew what was happening, we were practically inseparable. So, when second year rolled around, we decided to save ourselves some time and effort from all the commuting and just move in together -"

"Wait, how about the _good_ parts? I want to hear about those," Puck complained.

"She's really channelling Rachel, isn't she?" Finn commented meekly.

Quinn scowled and pressed on, ignoring both of them, "Our parents had been joining us in New York for every major holiday since college started, that's probably why none of you knew about us -"

"But why wasn't it on Facebook?" Artie demanded.

Quinn huffed at another interruption. "That's because neither of us is all that fond of Facebook. Back to the story?" Quinn bared her teeth. Artie nodded nervously. "Skipping ahead to the important point, it was one week before graduation and it was Rachel's first show on Broadway." Quinn paused to kiss Rachel's temple. "I was in the front row with our parents. We were there to support Rach, but they were also there to support me. They knew what I planned to do. We had been together for nearly four years and I knew Rach was _it_, the one for me, but loving her and proposing had seemed like two different things at the time. Our parents were trying their hardest to be reassuring, but by the time the curtains fell, they were shaking as badly as I was.

"Mom had to push me out of my chair when Rachel came back on stage for the last time that night and I nearly dropped the flowers for Rach. I approached the stage on unsteady legs, looking into Rachel's eyes the entire time." Rachel's eyes were starting to moisten and everyone else had pulled out tissues. "I held the flowers out and asked her to look inside. She did and started crying right there on the stage. One of the cast members actually threatened to call security, thinking I was upsetting Rachel. Rach stopped him in time and told me to come backstage. The only thing I remembered after that was being escorted to Rachel's dressing room and Rachel _literally_ throwing herself into my arms, whispering yes over and over again before she kissed me."

The former members of Glee were either crying or well on their way by the time Quinn finished her story. Rachel buried her face into the crook of Quinn's shoulder as she sniffed, "I love when you tell that story."

"You tell it better, baby," Quinn returned.

Rachel shook her head and opened her mouth to say more, but Kurt chose to intrude on the private moment, "Who would have ever thought that the Head Bitch in Charge could be so romantic?"

"Don't push your luck, Hummel," Quinn snarled.

"Play nice, Quinn," Rachel reminded gently.

Quinn stuck her bottom lip out at Rachel before returning her attention to the rest of the group. "That very same weekend, we drove to Boston and got married at the town hall with only our parents as witnesses. We've been officially wife and wife for one month now."

Kurt gasped, enthusiasm draining from his features. "You got married in the _town hall_?" he spat. "Was there even a reception? What about the gowns? Quinn Fabray, how could you? Rachel, how could you have _let_ her? I cannot -"

"Actually, Kurt, although I might have had grandiose visions of what my perfect wedding would be like while growing up, saying 'I do' to Quinn with practically no fanfare was pretty perfect to me."

"Hear that, Hummel? You can -"

Rachel pressed a finger against Quinn's lips and the blonde, much to everyone's shock and ill-disguised amusement, went quiet at once. Santana mumbled 'whipped'. Quinn glared. Rachel coughed a little too loudly to be subtle. Quinn smiled contritely. Santana chuckled. Rachel rolled her eyes.

Kurt still looked shell-shocked. "B-b-but -"

"Kurt," Rachel quickly continued to stem further outburst. "There is nothing we can do about the wedding at the moment, but we are planning to hold the reception in a month's time. And while I admit that it might have been hasty of us to get married the way we did, I, for one, do not regret it at all. Quinn is, and I do not exaggerate, the best thing to happen to me. She is the love of my life and tying the knot only legalises what we both already have. The only thing the marriage certificate changed was my surname. Loving Quinn, having her love me in return, remains the same process, the same _revelation_, the same gift after and before the marriage itself."

Taking a deep breath, Rachel continued earnestly, "Coming back to Lima for the reunion served a twofold purpose: the first is, of course, to catch up with our fellow Glee clubbers and the second is to announce the happy news to our _friends_ face-to-face. You are all very important people in our lives and although, admittedly, we could have done a better job of keeping in touch with all of you, we still would prefer nothing better than to have you all be a part of our belated wedding reception. I understand that we could have done this differently, but I suppose nothing can be done about it now. So, please, if -"

Santana interjected flatly, "If we say yes to helping out at your reception – because that _is_ what you are asking us, isn't it – would you stop your yammering?"

Quinn directed a dirty look at the Latina.

Rachel smiled bashfully at Santana and turned to everyone else. "Is that a yes?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

"Ooh, wedding receptions are fun!"

"We're totally doing a dance routine. Sam, Puck, Finn, Artie, you guys are backing me up."

"Wait, we're backing up a lone dancer?"

"Dude, the Puckerone doesn't play second fiddle."

"Yeah, Mike, I don't know if it should be a dance-only performance."

"I agree with the rest of the group, Mike. I think we should focus more on the music at this point."

Mike looked a little dejected, but grudgingly gave in.

"Rachel, I understand that we have very little time on our hands, but I have to insist on re-enacting the wedding before the reception. I personally believe that the whole affair will have more impact this way, wouldn't you agree? What do you say, Mercedes?"

"I agree with my boy, Rachel. It doesn't have to be anything big, but enough to complement the awesome reception we'll no doubt plan."

Rachel kissed Quinn on the cheek, beaming as she pulled away and allowed herself to be steered toward the exit by the two excited divas.

Quinn tore her attention away from Rachel's retreating back (_and my, did that dress not do justice to Rachel's amazing … derriere and legs or not?_) and actually took a wary step backward upon noting the mischievous expressions the people left behind have on. "Should I even ask?"

"We'll let the divas handle the boring part. We'll tackle the _fun_ bits of a wedding, baby!" Puck crooned, strumming an imaginary guitar.

Tina's eyebrows hiked upward in alarm. "I-i-in that case, I think I'll go help Kurt and Mercedes."

Brittany perked up. "Ooh, take me with you. Bye, S." She pecked Santana briefly on the lips and chattered away with Tina as they practically jogged to catch up with the trio.

"What do you mean by – _fun_?" Quinn questioned carefully.

"The bachelorette party, for one," Santana supplied.

"But, you're not _all_ girls," Quinn retorted helpfully.

"Nothing about you or Berry is conventional, so why should we be?" Puck argued.

"Please, Quinn?" Sam pleaded.

"We'll plan the entertainment for the reception too," Artie suggested eagerly.

"We actually have some ideas," Finn announced gleefully.

Mike spun on the spot, throwing out an arm and a leg. "Something like that, but it'll be so _much_ better, I promise."

"We'll also update your statuses on Facebook, free of charge, since it is more than painfully obvious that the two of you have neither the compulsion nor, probably, the capacity to perform such a simple task," Artie added timidly.

"Hey!"

"It's okay, Quinn. It took Artie a while to convince me that Facebook really isn't a book with only faces in it," Finn said in an attempt to calm the blonde down.

"Don't compare me with you -"

"But, Q, Artie's being so selfless," Santana chimed in. "This way, the rest of the _normal_ world gets to know how low you've truly sunk by marrying Rachel Berry!"

"What?" an entirely new, more gruff voice shouted in surprise.

"The head cheerleader got chained to _the king of the freaks_?" Karofsky broke in with a sneer.

"We are _not _repeating this again," Santana grumbled under her breath, walking up to the two simpletons and delivering swift kicks to their shins. "Let's get out of here to brainstorm," she chuckled darkly as Karofsky and Azimio limped as quickly away as possible.

"D-do I get a say in this?" Quinn voiced tentatively.

"Nope," everyone else answered merrily.

Santana dragged a reluctant Quinn along, humming what sounded suspiciously like the wedding march all the while.


End file.
